Trikala

I didn’t photograph a wall.
I photographed a fracture that didn’t want to be fixed.

This image is about division—subtle, brutal, irreversible.
Light cuts the building in two, exposing not just decay, but difference.
One half held in shadow, the other scorched in truth.
Same wall.
Different histories.

I’m drawn to structures like this—not because they’re falling apart, but because they already have, and no one bothered to cover it up. There’s honesty in that. A kind of grace in erosion.

This isn’t nostalgia.
It’s not ruin porn.
It’s a portrait of survival without polish.
Of silence after rupture.
Of what it means to keep standing even when part of you has gone missing.

I take these photographs to understand myself better.
Because I know what it means to live split down the middle—
and still be whole.